Friday, 11 April 2014

Games of the Imagination - do you still play?

I might look like I'm getting dressed as normal but actually I've just been dropped in the middle of the antarctic. I'm on a secret mission. Trouble is I'm naked and if I don't get my socks on within the next 5 seconds frostbite will set in.

1, 2 , 3, 4 ...

Phew. Socks are on. I hear a sigh of relief in my headset. But I'm not out of danger yet. 

Knickers are essential. Not just to keep my bottom from freezing off, but for my dignity. I'm a special agent after all.

Jeans. Where are they? Without their protective layering pneumonia is a certainty.  There'll be no chance of recovery either. There's no medical team where I am. It's just snow and ice for miles and the cold whisper of death blowing down my neck.

My jeans aren't where they should be... oh god... I'm going to die if I don't find them... I can hear them panicking back at base, they're blaming each other, bringing up past special agents who didn't make it. The heat is retreating to my core organs, I won't be able to feel my legs soon...

FOUND THEM! Panic over! Bra, t-shirt, jumper, fingerless gloves! I'm going to survive!

Okay. So I've never really been dropped in the north pole. That's just a little mind game I play on cold mornings, which being in England, is most of them. To the naked eye, I'm just getting dressed.

Thinking about my own mind games made me wonder what other people are imagining when they're doing mundane things. 

Writers are often stealing characters from real life. But although we can copy mannerisms and dialogue, I doubt we can ever really know the narrative of another person's thoughts. The good thing is, with so many different mental narratives, whatever we make up in fiction, it's bound to resonate with someone.

Come on, I can't be the only one being dropped in the antarctic in the mornings or the jungle for the washing up... tell me, where do you go?

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